The Subject of Virgil
by Gumnut
Summary: Gordon was in the kitchen getting himself a drink of water when there was an almighty yell, a loud crash, and something flew off the balcony above and into the pool. He frowned, only to sag slightly as the piano stool floated gently back to the surface. "Ah, hell." Sequel and Epilogue to 'Access Denied'. Spoilers for S2.


Title: The Subject of Virgil: sequel and epilogue to 'Access Denied'

Author: Gumnut

25 - 31 Jul 2018

Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015

Rating: Teen

Summary:

Word count: 8388

Spoilers & warnings: Season 2 in general. Occurs sometime before 2.07 Home on the Range. Possibly AU due to the time length involved. You can read this without reading 'Access Denied', but it would make more sense if you read the first fic first. Angst and a little whump.

Author's note: Apparently I was a little too mean to Virgil in the last fic and he demanded some reparations – that and I felt 'Access Denied' didn't quite end the way it should have. Having said that, once again this fic ended up somewhere completely unplanned (there is an entire scene missing that I'll have to use in another fic). Whether it is satisfactory to meet the demands of the first fic, I don't know. But I hope you enjoy it anyway.

Disclaimer: Mine? You've got to be kidding. Money? Don't have any, don't bother.

Gordon was in the kitchen getting himself a drink of water when there was an almighty yell, a loud crash, and something flew off the balcony above and into the pool.

He frowned, only to sag slightly as the piano stool floated gently back to the surface.

"Ah, hell."

He put the glass down and rubbed his eyes before wandering over to the main table and hitting the comms. "John, what is Scott's status?"

"On his way back, ETA fifteen minutes."

"Grandma and Alan?"

"Still in Sydney. Apparently, she has dragged him into The Rocks. We may not see them for a while." Gordon smirked. Grandma was notoriously attached to craft markets and would, no doubt, arrive home dressed in tie-dye and sandals, sporting jars of homemade jams and pickles.

"Kayo still in Argentina?"

"No, Peru." Gordon didn't bother asking why Peru. Since the incident with Virgil's exo-suit, she had hardly been home, scouring the planet for their nemesis. If she ever managed to get her hands on the Mechanic, they would likely no longer have a nemesis. Kayo was pissed. And Virgil was right, she was scary.

Fortunately or unfortunately, that left just Brains on the island with Gordon, and he was pretty much as irate as Kayo. Though his anger management tended to involve locking himself in his lab to conspire with physics and chemistry. Multiple cool new gadgets had been birthed just recently as a result.

Gordon's sudden lack of conversation had John filling in the silence. "How's Virgil?"

"The piano stool just landed in the pool."

An exhale. "Ah, hell."

"My thoughts exactly."

There was another silence. "Well, you better go yank it out. Scott's ETA is now five minutes."

"Thanks, John."

"FAB."

-o-o-o-

He managed to fish the stool out of the pool quite easily. It looked a little worse for wear and was soaked, but some time in the sun would fix that.

Looking up at the balcony revealed no sign of his second eldest brother. Gordon bit his lip. He loved his brother but be damned if he understood him.

He eyed his mother's piano stool and sighed. Better go check that Virgil hadn't done anything more stupid.

Climbing the stairs two at a time he entered the comms room and into the wake of his brother's anger. Music sheets were scattered everywhere, the piano had been shoved almost to the far window and a glass, its former contents in halo, lay in pieces all over the hardwood floor.

Gordon would have said it was unlike his usually calm brother, that there was definitely something wrong, but that had already been clearly demonstrated earlier that day. No conclusions needed to be drawn as they were already known. This was just the result.

Perhaps it was a sign of Virgil's calm personality. Gordon doubted the villa would still be standing if it had happened to him. As it was, he had the urge to destroy something anyway, preferably the Mechanic.

He couldn't see his brother at first, but stepping further into the room, he spotted him sitting out on the floor of the balcony. Almost at the edge. His favourite flannel shirt was missing, hopefully not also a victim of this moment, just his grey undershirt hunched over in the late afternoon light. Gordon didn't hesitate, just walked out the doors and sat down beside his brother.

"You know Scott is due in any minute. It's going to get blustery out here."

No answer.

Virgil had his head in his hands, one leg stuck out to the side awkwardly as if he had half fallen into position. Unsurprisingly he was wearing shorts, no doubt to keep the pressure off the large bandaged burn on his left thigh.

"I'm not going to ask if you are okay, as it is obvious that you're not."

No comment. Not even a flicker of acknowledgment.

"But I will ask if there is anything that we can do to help."

Still no answer.

Another moment and the pool began to retract and a distant roar encroached on the sounds of the island.

"You sure you want to stay out here?"

If there was a response, it was lost in the roar of approaching Thunderbird.

A click and the large glass doors both behind them and beneath in the kitchen slid slowly closed, protecting the villa's interior.

"Okay, but I'm borrowing your hairdryer this time."

Thunderbird One had come to a vertical above the island and was dropping slowly, ever controlled by her pilot. The roar of approaching exhaust enveloped them, hot air swirling and catching his hair. Gordon held his breath, resistant to breathing the fumes, harmless though they were – after all Thunderbird One was hardly your typical rocket and the fuel it ran on, far more kind to its environment. Didn't mean it didn't have its own flavour, though. A cough and a splutter. Yes, he'd be scraping that out of the back of his throat for the next hour.

Then the exhaust was consumed by the hanger and the long, tall body of the rocket plane was slowly passing. The cockpit came into view and one exhausted, dirty and frowning Scott Tracy peered out at them momentarily before disappearing below the edge of the balcony.

"You know he's going to be pissed." But he could barely hear himself, and wouldn't until the pool finally slid back into place.

Virgil hadn't moved. His head still in his hands, but now his hair was whipped into a frenzy. Gordon had no doubt his was little different. He also needed another shower.

As the pool closed, the doors behind them retracted again and the island returned to its former idyllic tropicalness.

Of course, there was now a countdown in place. Scott would be here any moment.

Gordon sighed.

"I'm really sorry, Virgil. It sucks. Kayo will find him eventually and he will regret everything."

Everything.

There was the sound of a sob. Gordon's eyes widened and then his heart tore in two.

Virgil was crying.

He wrapped an arm around his brother, gently turning the bigger man into an awkward embrace, hampered by his leg. A hand ended up full of trembling dusty dark hair, and then Virgil was shaking against him, letting out not the anger, but the anguish behind it.

Hurried footsteps slowed behind them, and Gordon blinked away his own welling tears to look up at his eldest brother.

Scott was filthy. Soot and mud, the main contributors, almost hid the blue of his uniform. But it was the echoed horror in his eyes that marked his appearance more than anything.

In Gordon's arms, Virgil was muttering between his sobs. "I'm sorry." A harsh heaved in breath strangled by tears. "Sorry. Sorry. So-rry." Gordon squeezed tighter, partly to reassure, partly to keep his own insides in place.

Scott crouched down, placing his hand on his shuddering brother's back. "Not your fault, Virgil."

A shuddering gasp. Virgil's head shot up and Gordon saw his face for the first time since this morning. Pale skin and tear-filled, red-rimmed eyes screamed without sound. "But it is. I should never have been out there in the first place."

Scott's lips thinned. "If you hadn't been there those people would have died."

The anger returned as his brother pulled away. "If I hadn't… she wouldn't have gotten burnt!"

"She would have been dead, Virgil! You saved her life and the lives of her family." Scott had fire in his eyes, determination, clarity and defence of his brother, but Gordon knew it was also fuelled by fear.

Fear of what this could mean.

"C'mon, Virg, you know he's right. You did good today. Accidents happen. We're not perfect. It's gonna happen whether we like it or not."

Those pain-filled brown eyes caught his. "How do I tell a ten-year-old girl that she is going to be scarred for life because her rescue operative froze in the middle of saving her. Literally held her over the flames, Gordon. Simply because he couldn't keep it together."

Gordon's voice was quiet. "You did your best."

"Well, I guess that is just not good enough anymore." He pulled away, hands scrabbling at the decking as he struggled to stand. Scott straightened and reached down to help him. The moment Virgil was on his feet, he pulled away and limped back into the house.

Gordon stood up, watching Scott as his eyes followed his brother. A door slammed in the distance.

Blue eyes flickered back to his own.

"Damn."

-o-o-o-

It hurt to walk, but Virgil didn't care. Hobbling through the house, he stumbled out the back door and slammed it behind him.

His feet hit the gravel path and he was moving. Where, he wasn't sure, he just had to move away. Get away. Be somewhere else.

The look in Scott's eyes…it asked questions Virgil wasn't ready to answer. He scrubbed a hand over his wet face, the fingers of his left hand complained loudly. A flinch and a flashback of memory.

This morning has been so normal. A situation, a spin down his chute, Gordon on his tail. Both Thunderbird One and Two attending a rockslide just north of Santiago in Chile. They had been pulling people to safety by the droves. The side of the mountain had collapsed on a small town. While Gordon had been manoeuvring the earthmoving pod, Virgil had donned his exo-suit and had been pulling people out of buildings who couldn't get out by themselves.

He hadn't even thought about it. It had been months since the incident. He and Scott had been down to the module bay every day, confronting any issues that popped up, which had been surprisingly few. If anything, Virgil had felt that Scott had been having more issues than he had. Apparently, it helped to hardly remember what happened when life screwed you over.

There had been nothing. If there had been, he would have pulled himself off active service. You don't mess with psychological issues in this business, it wasn't worth the risk.

But halfway through the morning, Virgil had had to tackle a house on fire. Probably a severed gas pipe, and he wasn't wearing the fire exo-suit, but there were lives to save, so he jumped in feet first.

A couple of parents and two kids. He had three of them out and was carrying the last one, a young girl on his right arm, when some kind of burning debris fell across his left side.

There was pain and he whited out.

For a moment there was memory. Memory so painful, it outshone the physical burning of his uniform. Someone was screaming.

It was Scott's shouting over the comms that snapped him out of it. But those precious moments had been lost. The girl in his arms was shrieking, her hair on fire.

He made it out of the building, stumbling to hand the girl to the paramedics. There were hands on him, but he brushed them away, staggering around the nearest building before falling to his knees. He only just managed to rip off his helmet before dumping his breakfast on the rocky ground in front of him.

Almost choking on his own breath, hands trembling, he disengaged the exo-suit, letting its weight fall off him, shoving it away. Free of its confines, he slowly tipped sideways, unable to support himself any longer.

He didn't know how long he lay shivering on the rocks, but the next face he saw was Scott's, his worried blue eyes frantically scanning him for injury.

There was a stretcher. There was Gordon.

There was the wonderful roar of Thunderbird Two's engines.

And then there was sleep.

-o-o-o-

Tracy Island was a lump of volcanic rock in the middle of the Southern Pacific. It was a harsh environment, the rock geologically young, the elements having not yet quite had their way with it. Any and all paths around the island were steep and challenging and certainly not suited to an injured rescue operative just out of bed.

Virgil stumbled several times, the painkillers wearing off by the minute.

He'd woken back on the Island in the infirmary with Gordon hovering over him. Apparently, they'd both been dismissed from the rescue site. Scott was still there, finishing up with the local crews.

Virgil hadn't been out long. Just long enough to have his injuries attended to and for the painkiller to kick in. There were bandages scattered all over the left side of his body. He rated burns in the second degree according to his brother.

All Virgil knew was that there was a great gaping hole in his chest. There hadn't been words, so he hadn't said anything. Eventually, having failed to get a peep out of his brother, Gordon excused himself for a moment.

Virgil took the opportunity to drag himself out of bed and head back to his room. The emptiness in his chest drove him towards solace. His rooms gave him familiarity, his clothes gave him comfort. He wrapped himself in his familiar grey t-shirt and he sought something to soothe his whirling thoughts.

He found himself in front of his piano. So he sought his solace in his music.

The fingers of his left hand were stiff and stunk of medicated cream, but he forced them to move. He needed to find the music, to find that place. A place of safety where his mind could hang suspended between the notes, held up by the rhythm and comforted by the melody.

But his injured fingers wouldn't obey him. There was a spark of pain and he lost it. Just lost it. Everything hit him at once and he simply reacted in fury.

God, he hoped that piano stool had survived his weakness. Mom…

Fate broke that train of thought by placing a rock in just the wrong spot, causing him to stumble and knock the burn on his thigh. He gasped and grit his teeth.

No, just keep walking.

Walk, damn you.

And walk he did.

He wasn't really paying attention to his surroundings, so it was a surprise when the familiar sound of a jetpack zooming overhead was enveloped by the pink and orange sky of a sunset. He stopped on the path, his whole body throbbing and complaining. He looked around. Hell, he was all the way over on the other side of the island.

The blue figure in the sky circled once before dropping rapidly.

Great, he was going to get it now. Not that he didn't deserve it, wandering off like this, but…

Aw, hell.

-o-o-o-

Scott had been frantic when they realised Virgil was no longer in the house. They had assumed the slammed door had belonged to his brother's rooms, but an hour or so later when his meds came due, investigation had revealed his rooms to be empty.

By then Scott had showered and was in more comfortable clothing. He would have loved to have been sleeping, but he knew his brain would not let him. Not until he'd had a chance to speak with his brother. Speak properly. To reassure both Virgil and himself.

But now he was gone.

A quick word with Thunderbird Five had a lifesign pinpointed on the other side of the island. Shoving on a clean uniform, he grabbed a spare jetpack and took off.

Gordon was told to wait and answer any questions Grandma and Alan had as they had now been informed of the morning's events and were due back any moment.

The sun was heading towards the horizon and the island was lit up in gold. The breeze was cooling against his bare fingertips and he shivered.

God, he was tired. More from emotional stress than physical. The sight of his brother curled up on his side, his uniform charred through to skin in places, practically non-responsive…

The Mechanic could rot in hell.

They'd both thought the worst was over. The pain had dulled somewhat. Scott had been processing his issues and Virgil had shown no signs of extended psychological damage.

Perhaps that should have been obvious.

Perhaps he should have forced him into that counselling he had refused.

Perhaps… He sighed. The ten-year-old had lost most of her hair. There would be some scarring, but she was alive. She had survived.

He wasn't sure his brother would.

A whip around the area John indicated and he spotted the hunched over figure he was looking for. A glance up and he knew he had been spotted. A flick of his thumb and he was descending.

The gravel crunched under his feet as he touched down beside his brother. As expected, Virgil looked awful - cold and exhausted. Scott didn't bother to ask why his brother was out here, he simply walked over to him, wrapped an arm around him and gently pulled him close.

"Time to come home."

-o-o-o-

Days passed, then weeks. Burns healed, but Virgil's heart didn't.

He'd been pulled off active duty. Gordon and Alan now flew his beloved 'Bird and Virgil did his best to ignore it. He stepped back into a supportive role, providing maintenance to the big machines. If it broke, he fixed it. One day might see him clambering up the side of Three, the next might have him under the belly of Two or buried in a module realigning pod equipment.

But he didn't step a foot off Tracy Island. And he rescued no one.

He couldn't risk it.

Scott was worried, he knew it. His big brother continued to try and corner him. To talk to him and bare his quivering soul. But Virgil didn't want to share. He shut it all away and focussed on the here and now – the spanner in one hand, the power meter in the other and the job in front of him. Where he could do good, despite being broken inside.

And then the memories started to return. And they had to be memories, because he could not have imagined this amount of pain. It was as if the fire incident had been a trigger, a release, and bit by bit those forgotten moments had begun to return.

Flashes of the terrified look on Scott's face. Skittering insect legs on his skin. Ice, goddamn, ice. He would be happy never to see any ice ever again. And the pain. He woke up screaming and twitching in the night, often a member of his family beside his bed worriedly shaking him awake.

It was humiliating. It was exhausting.

I wasn't getting better, it was getting worse.

And he couldn't function like this.

-o-o-o-

EOS knew something was wrong. John's mood had been bad for the last week and while everyone was being civil, the under current of strain was slowly tearing their network apart.

John had mistakenly referred to the youngest one as Virgil earlier today, which was understandable for a human as Virgil was usually the pilot of Thunderbird Two. The fact that he had been ill for some weeks now didn't immediately erase human habit of years. The silence that had followed the error had been filled with unspoken anguish and the expression on John's face as he apologised had been equally painfilled.

The subject of Virgil was an ignition point for all sorts of arguments.

As for EOS herself, she had kept an eye on the engineer, following him through the system. He was an efficient worker, completing tasks accurately and at speed. Of course, he wasn't John, he was Virgil and sometimes his actions were completely lost to her. John claimed it was his brother's artistic streak. EOS was 87% sure it was just stubborn contrariousness.

But this made her no less surprised when one day Virgil just simply stopped working.

She had scooted down to the maintenance bays for her daily observations of the man only to find him absent. Further investigation and she found him in his bedroom lying on top of the bed, unshaven, shirtless, an arm over his eyes, but clearly not asleep.

An instinctive scan of his vitals found him healthy, though not at peak. There had been some weight loss due to his convalescence and his pale bare skin still sported the red remains of his burn injuries, but he was not making any attempt to rise for the day. He had a job list as long as his arm awaiting completion – she had checked, but he was making no move.

A quick query to John resulted in a sigh and a muttered 'sick day', so EOS had left the second eldest brother undisturbed.

But it happened again the next day. And the next. Why was he not addressing his duties? When asked, John had looked pained and told her to leave Virgil to himself.

So she did.

But he still didn't attend to his duties. He ate. He slept. He managed the physical necessities of life, but little more. She watched as his family came to him in turn and attempted to cajole him into movement, but he refused them all. Even the eldest brother, who she had suspected would be the most successful, had ended up out in the hall, his back to the wall, hands running through his hair, desperation on his face.

So the subject of Virgil became very sensitive and she dare not mention it.

Until the day John got stuck in his bathroom.

EOS had access to all electronic equipment aboard the station, but there was a compliment of manual systems left so for safety reasons. The lock on the toilet door was one of them, and it broke. With John inside the small room.

"You've got to be kidding me."

"I'm sorry, John, but the mechanism is jammed. I am unable to help you."

The astronaut let his head drop against the door. "I am never going to live this one down."

"Chances are very small." She let a smirk into her tone.

John sighed. "Who is available?" The question could have been phrased 'Who gets to laugh at me first?'

"Virgil Tracy is currently on the Island."

She could see him calculating variables. She really didn't need to tell him who was available. He knew where everyone was. He was the one who sent them there. Thunderbird One was in Buenos Aries with the eldest, Thunderbird Two was in Bangladesh with the two youngest, Thunderbird S was in England and the Chief Engineer was in California for a conference. That left the Grandmother who would be needed to take over monitor duties…and Virgil. She waited.

A sigh. "Hail Tracy Island. Voice only."

-o-o-o-

The days had begun to blur into a repetition of grey nothing. He'd originally taken a break to see if he could get his thoughts in order, but somewhere amongst it all he'd lost…something…maybe even himself. The nights wracked by nightmares, left the days only a little less so, and he lost the energy and motivation to do anything.

His family came. They talked, they badgered, and, in Scott's case, there had been yelling. He knew he was hurting them, but he was hurting so much himself, he had no resources to spare. So he just focussed on the basics, getting from one day to the next and kept to himself.

He was sitting on the edge of his bed with a sketch pad and pencil, once again staring at a blank page that refused to absorb anything he attempted to throw at it, when John's voice echoed through the room.

"Uh, Virgil, I need a favour."

He blinked. "John?" A frown. "Are you okay?"

"Um, I need you to come up to the station."

"Why?"

A sigh. "The locking mechanism to one of the bathroom cubicles is jammed."

"Huh?"

"While I'm in it."

It took a moment for his brain to do the math on that. "You're stuck in the toilet?"

"Yes."

Despite everything…everything…Virgil's lips couldn't help but smirk. "Really?"

"Yes, really. And I can't get out. EOS has transferred monitor duties to Grandma, but I need your help to get out of this…predicament."

"Gordon's gonna love this."

"Gordon isn't going to find out about this, is he?" The glare made it across thousands of miles of space and atmosphere even without visuals.

"We'll see. I'll be there shortly."

"Thanks, Virgil." And John signed out.

Virgil couldn't help but smile.

-o-o-o-

A misstep in the direction of his chute soon sobered him up. He swallowed and instead made for the uniform lockers. He didn't let himself think as he put on his uniform on. Didn't think as he buckled on his sash and tool belt. Grabbing his helmet and extra tools, he entered the access shaft for the space elevator that was just now connecting with its staging platform, no doubt sent by EOS.

He could count on one hand the number of times he has used the elevator. Out of all the team, he was the least likely to visit Thunderbird Five as he usually had his hands full down here with Thunderbird Two. There was a pang in his chest, but he ignored it. There was a job to be done. A brother to be saved.

From his bathroom.

The smirk appeared again.

Latching himself in the seat built for his younger brother, he leant back and forced himself to relax.

"Hello, Virgil."

"Hello, EOS. Are we ready?"

"Finalising pre-launch now."

He closed his eyes waiting for the subtle movement of release.

"Launching now."

The craft shuddered just slightly, its boosters fired, and the pressure across his body increased as they accelerated up into the atmosphere.

"Thank you for coming to John's assistance, Virgil."

Virgil opened his eyes and peered to look up at the camera manifesting the AI. "No problem, EOS. Anytime."

There was a silence, but Virgil felt she hadn't left. "Do you have a question, EOS?"

"What is wrong?"

He blinked. "With what?"

"With you."

A frown. "What do you mean, EOS?"

"For the past two weeks you have been functionally inoperative."

"I've….I've been unwell." He fidgeted. He did not want to talk about this.

"Incorrect. Your body has healed and you are fully capable of resuming at least the basic duties you were attending to prior to this fortnight. Why have you not returned to the hangers?"

"I-"

"Thunderbird Two's performance has dropped 3%."

His eyes widened. "Really?"

"The youngest brothers' schedules are full. They have their responsibilities as well as yours to consider. Why are you not helping?"

Virgil sagged in his seat. "I needed the time."

"We need you."

His voice was small. "I know."

"I miss you."

"I-"

"And John is worried."

What could he say? He wasn't sure she understood the half of it. When it was stated so simply, the answer seemed obvious. But it wasn't so simple.

"EOS, do you dream?"

"I do not sleep."

He sighed. "You have my envy."

"Why?"

So young, so naïve at times, yet so powerful, EOS was amazing. His brother had created life, no matter how inadvertently. Did that make him an uncle? In any case, they all had a responsibility to assist with her education. EOS was family.

"EOS, it is complicated. Human health is not simply reliant on physical systems. Sometimes an event can have emotional connotations that can affect physical functioning."

"You have injured your mental health?" She seemed surprised. "Why have you not sought medical assistance?"

"It's complicated."

"How?"

Well, this was turning out to be one of the longest eight minutes of his life. "John? How are you doing?"

"John is fully functional and sitting on the toilet."

That was an image in itself. "EOS, why aren't you letting me speak to him."

"Because I want to speak to you."

Okay, mini-tantrum in place. "EOS-"

"No, I want to understand why you aren't looking after yourself. I miss our time together. If you are mentally ill, why not seek out treatment and get well? Then we can spend time together again. Don't you miss me?"

Oh, god, this was getting into difficult territory. "Of course, I miss you, EOS."

"Don't you want to get well?"

"Of course, I do!"

"Then why have you not sought assistance?"

He wished he didn't have his helmet on. Then he could rub his face with his hands and possibly gouge his own eyes out. As it was, it wasn't worth the fingerprints on his faceplate. "I need time."

"You've had time. You appear to have cut yourself off from all family aid. If I measure your health in relation to familial interactions, it is declining." She paused. "You yelled at your eldest brother."

Oh great, now she was accessing further information and checking the logs. "EOS-"

"You have rejected all the attempts of help offered by your family."

"EOS!"

"Are you going to yell at me, too?"

He closed his eyes, squeezing his face shut, biting back everything. "No." His voice was hoarse.

"Approaching dock. Stabilisers firing."

The little craft shuddered and his stomach sank as momentum was shed. The clunk of the grapple was a very welcome sound.

"You may now depart. Thank you for flying with IR Elevators."

Virgil simply stared up at the camera. What? But EOS didn't say anything further.

He felt like he had been through an emotional wringer. Did the kid have any idea? He knew enough to not underestimate her.

A sigh and he clambered up out of the support chair and made his way onto the station.

-o-o-o-

This was humiliating.

John glared at the mechanism holding him for the bounty of his brothers' laughter.

"Your brother has arrived and will be here shortly."

"Thank you, EOS." And thank goodness.

"John?"

"Yes, EOS?"

"Why is Virgil refusing to seek treatment for his mental illness?"

Mental illness? "EOS, what did you say to Virgil? I told you to let him be."

"But it is not working. He is getting worse, not better."

"EOS."

"I miss him."

"We all do."

"Then why don't we help him?"

There was a thud on the other side of the door and it was flung open. His brother hovered in front of him. "Hey, John." There was the expected smirk.

But John didn't return it. Virgil looked awful. He'd lost weight. He was pale. His uniform was baggy on him. His broad shoulders appeared stooped and where his quietly confident brother had once stood now hovered a shadow of his former self.

"Virgil?"

"So you like it so much in there, you want to stay?" At least there was a spark of humour in his eyes.

"Thank you for coming."

A hand reached out and patted him on the shoulder. "Any time, bro." Another smirk. "So what do I get for not telling Gordon?"

John pushed off and sailed past his brother. "I'll think about it."

"Don't think too long. Blackmail has an expiry date."

"I'm sure it does." He rolled his eyes, but worry was roiling in his stomach. He bit his lip. "I just need to go and check on Control. See you up there?"

"Sure. I'll fix this and meet you there."

"'Kay." He turned and left.

-o-o-o-

The lock only took moments to fix. A bit of oil and a replacement tongue did the job, but he did make a note to log it with Brains. This could have become a serious situation and they didn't need two pieces of poorly designed metal making their lives even harder.

Finishing up, he packed up his tools and headed for the ring. He had to admit it felt good to be away from home. He wouldn't have thought it would, but it did. Stepping onto the glass of the gravity ring only made it better.

Far below him spun his planet. It certainly wasn't the first time he had been in space, he was a Tracy after all, but having time to actually take a moment to just look and not have to rush to save a life? He wasn't sure that had ever happened.

He found himself sitting down on the glass, tools discarded beside him, the gravity ring spinning slowly, Earth, then stars, Earth again, stars again, it was almost hypnotic. The monsoon crackled over northern Australia, a cyclone brewing to the far west. He could see the snow-capped peaks of New Zealand.

Soft footsteps found him and his brother folded himself down elegantly beside him. "It's beautiful isn't it."

"Yes."

"Say, how long has it been since you've been up here?"

Virgil frowned. "At least six months."

"Eight months and twenty-nine days."

"Thank you, EOS." His eyes darted back to Virgil. "Would you like to stay for a while?" A shrug. "I could do with some help with maintenance, if you need an excuse."

Virgil looked up at his younger brother but saw no conniving demand to talk or need to help. John was…well, John. His honesty and directness came with the territory. "Sure." A pause. "Thanks."

"Great. I'll ask Grandma to send up some of your stuff." His brother unfolded smoothly to his feet.

Virgil stared down at the Pacific Ocean.

It was certainly a change of scenery.

-o-o-o-

It was unexpected, but it somehow helped. Virgil found his feet returning slowly to the ground now he was nowhere near it. At first, he was just a passenger. He spent his days sitting on the glass of the gravity ring simply watching. Thunderbird Five operated around him, emergency calls caught and handballed by his brother in the smooth flowing functionality that was International Rescue. But slowly, here, away from Thunderbird Two and the complications inherent, he was drawn into the flow. Soon calls to Thunderbird Five were also being answered by a deep baritone. Scott had stumbled over his words the first time but hadn't commented. Gordon and Alan were just their usual amusing selves and they poked fun at him as they always had. For the first time in months he began to feel the cloud lifting. He found himself smiling.

John was quiet company. Simply there, often buried in reading or research. No demands to talk, no questions about his health. Simply there.

EOS was a challenge at times. Her questions were endless, but at some point John must have spoken to her and the torrent slowed.

Virgil finally found space to breathe.

There were still nightmares. He was pretty sure they were never going to leave. But they were fewer and he handled them better. In space EOS heard you scream. EOS got into the habit of telling him where he was, what time it was, where everyone else was and that he was okay.

It was a different world.

Apparently different helped.

Of course, he wasn't John and it wasn't long before he was thoroughly missing his family. Holograms couldn't replace that hand on his shoulder or simply sharing physical space with a loved one. But he made do. For the first time in weeks, he finally felt like he was making progress. There was a light at the end of the tunnel.

And then a building collapsed on his eldest brother.

-o-o-o-

"Scott!" Alan's yell across the comms scraped bone.

"Alan, report!" Virgil floated beside his brother far above the planet and too damn far away.

"The supports are giving way! Scott, move it, damn you!"

The roar of concrete and masonry could be heard over the comms. Virgil flicked through scans, then logged directly into TB2's external camera.

The six-storey building was coming down. He saw a flash of blue through a window before dust and rock obscured everything.

"Alan, report!" His voice roared over the comms.

"Virgil." John's calm voice, usually heard over the comms, was in his ear. "He's okay." His brother's hand flicked up the readouts from Scott's uniform. Virgil's eyes skipped across the numbers, his paramedic training drawing a picture. But his own heart was pounding.

A touch quieter. "Scott? Scott, status?"

Alan finally cut in, coughing loudly. "Thunderbird Five, do you have him?"

John answered. "Scott's vitals are stable. We are getting no response, but he is alive. Two life readings." So whoever he had dived in for had survived as well. Virgil pulled up the scan of the situation, chunks of holographic masonry still settling above two life signs.

"I'm going down." Virgil moved towards the door.

John intercepted him. "Virgil, you've been in space for weeks now. Are you sure you are up to this?"

He caught his brother's eyes. "I better be."

-o-o-o-

Alan was covered in concrete dust and he couldn't stop coughing. Even after grabbing his helmet and upping the oxygen level. Scott was going to carve him a new one when he found out he'd removed it in the first place.

Well, once he answered his damn comms. "Scott?"

The woman whose child Scott had run into the building to save, was clinging to his sash, jabbering at him in what he assumed was Indonesian, tears running down her face.

"Virgil is on his way down." John's voice was firm.

"What?"

"ETA five minutes."

Alan looked up at the clear sky but couldn't see anything…yet. Oookay, maybe the carving would start earlier.

"John, can you give this woman some reassurance?" He needed to start moving.

John's voice, speaking whatever, spouted over his external speaker. The woman finally let go and babbled back. "I've told her that her son is alive and that we will do our best to get them out." Alan grabbed her shoulders with gentle hands and did his best to smile reassuringly. Her head bobbed in desperate gratitude.

He stepped away just as the hiss and roar of deceleration thrusters fired above him. Looking up, the elevator came into view. Not exactly the safest way to travel. Alan bit his lip with concern only to get another mouthful of concrete dust. He sputtered.

"John, can you see a point of access to reach him?"

"Scott and the child are caught in a space beneath a large section of wall. We're going to need Thunderbird Two to lift it."

Damn. That made it harder. It also explained why his brother had jumped ship. It would have taken him only moments to assess the rescue site.

The Space Elevator landed off to one side. Alan hurried over as the hatch opened and his brother climbed out, his feet hitting Earth in a little puff of more dust.

He turned…and tripped, falling on his face.

"Ow."

It would have been absolutely hilarious in different circumstances. Alan reached his brother and gave him a hand up. "I guess you are never laughing at John again."

Virgil glared at him. Alan couldn't help but feel his heart lift at the sight of it. Virgil looked, well, better. Not one hundred percent, but his spark was there.

"Situation?" All business.

As the Elevator retracted into the sky, Alan reported the dot points of the lead into the collapse and the status of equipment available. His brother strode directly over to the towering Thunderbird Two, prodding his remote. She responded immediately, the pod bay door opening so fast he didn't need to alter his stride to enter.

"Alan, take the pod, multi-claw and leg combination. We're pick and throw initially. I'll take the exo-suit."

He shot his brother a look, but didn't comment on that last, no matter how much he wanted to. "FAB."

He busied himself setting up the pod, only the occasional glance in his brother's direction. But he did watch as the man approached his suit.

No hesitation. He lent back, slipped his arms into the sleeves. The suit snapped on, attaching its support framework to his uniform. And Virgil was moving.

Alan jumped into the pod and slid the hatch closed. "John?"

"Alan?"

"Keep an eye on him."

"Always do."

-o-o-o-

It was a blur of concrete and dust. Manual labour, an old friend. Virgil grunted as he lifted a particularly heavy chunk of masonry, near the suit's limits, an alarm sounded in his helmet.

Okay, I got the message. He lowered it and signalled to Alan to retrieve it.

His body ached. Space had made him soft.

Scott still hadn't responded and despite John's continued reassurance, Virgil's heart was in a knot. They weren't moving fast enough. They had to clear the rubble above the large section of wall to enable Thunderbird Two to get a good grip on it, and to make sure random rock didn't then fall in on the trapped victims.

"A-alan?"

"Scott?!" Virgil paused.

"Virgil?"

"Scott, status?"

"I'm…I'm stuck. My head…augh."

"Are you injured?" There wasn't an immediate answer. "Scott?"

"My head…what are you doing here?"

Virgil swallowed and immediately started shifting masonry again. "Digging you out, dear brother." He grunted as he threw away another large chunk of concrete.

"But…you're sick. In space."

That was worrying. Scott did not sound himself at all. "Well, apparently I don't get to stay up there if my brother lets a building fall on him." Another grunt of effort. "What is the status of the child you were attempting to save?"

"Can't see." Sounds of movement. "I think he's unconscious."

"Hold on, Scott, we are getting there." The pod reached over him and lifted up a particularly large block and Virgil moved in to clear the smaller chunks left behind.

"Good…miss you…" His brother muttered unintelligibly, his voice going quiet.

"Scott! Stay awake. Talk to me."

"Y-you didn't want to talk to me. You left."

Virgil didn't have time for recriminations right now. However, the piece of rock he threw this time did land quite a bit further away than the last.

"I had to, Scott."

"Why?"

"I needed time."

"For what?"

To get better? To think? To hide? He threw another chunk of rock and there was a yelp from Alan. "I don't know."

"Wanted you to get better. Miss you."

"I know."

"Virgil, the slab is clear enough to excavate." John.

"Copy that, Thunderbird Five." He turned to Alan, looking up at the pod beside him. "Alan, you have Thunderbird Two. Use the grapple guns and secure the wall. Spread the weight as much as possible. "I'll manage down here."

Alan stared at him through the cockpit, but only for a second, and that was followed by a muttered, "FAB." The pod stalked back to the module bay.

"Scott?"

"Vir-gl."

"Stay with me, Scott. We're about to get you out." Behind him, the sweet, familiar sound of his 'Bird's VTOL firing up. A wave of dust and hot air swirled around him.

"Want to stay with you. Miss you."

Just for a moment Virgil closed his eyes. Guilt and pain swirled around behind his eyelids. "I'm sorry, Scott."

And then loud multiple thunks as Alan fired the grapple guns and secured the wall. Virgil stood ready to catch or steady anything they had missed. He could almost feel John's eyes far above casing the scene, as Alan slowly elevated the concrete slab.

"To your left, Virgil."

He grabbed the sliding rock and flung it away. "Keep it going, Alan. All steady here." And finally, the masonry was lifted high enough for him to see his brother sprawled face down, a young boy held protectively beside him.

There was a groan over the comms and Scott struggled to roll over. "No, Scott. Stay still. We're almost there."

Thunderbird Two shifted the slab sideways and at last he could run over to his brother. He shed the suit in two steps. It clattered to the dust behind him, and he was on his knees.

"Hey, Virg…" Disoriented grey blue eyes smiled up at him as Scott twisted around to see him. They blinked away crusted red blood.

"Hey, hey, stay still." Virgil reached out to cup his brother's helmet. His fingers ran over a good solid dent in its side. Source of concussion found.

Scott grabbed his arm. "You stay?"

"Of course, I'll stay."

"Good." Scott visibly relaxed. "Don' go'way."

And then there were paramedics, vital signs and stretchers.

-o-o-o-

Scott had been lucky. Somehow, other than a doozy of a concussion, he was uninjured. The little boy had a milder concussion and a broken arm. Both had been so, so lucky.

The doctors wanted to keep his brother in hospital overnight, but Virgil knew Scott would hate every second of it and wouldn't be able to relax properly, so he convinced them that as an International Rescue operative he had the skills needed to care for his brother – which he did.

Alan landed Thunderbird Two on the hospital helipad and, before the sun set, they were on their way home.

"Virgil?" John's voice startled him as it echoed around the medical bay.

"Huh?" He lifted his head off his arms. His eyes automatically scanned Scott's somnolent form on the same bed he was leaning on. Sleeping soundly.

"You're exhausted, Virgil, you need to rest."

"I'll rest later. Need to keep an eye on Scott."

"You're practically dead on your feet. A zombie. You're not doing him or yourself any good. Go and lie down. I will keep an eye on Scott."

Virgil let his head drop onto his arms again. "Can't, gotta stay."

There was a soft muttering over the comms and only two words were clear enough to understand – 'two' and 'blockheads'.

"What?" But then he decided he didn't really care and let himself drift. "Gotta stay."

-o-o-o-

Scott Tracy woke with one hell of a headache. The first thing he saw was the ceiling of the infirmary. The second was his sleeping brother.

Virgil lay on the bed next to him, on his stomach, with his face smashed up against his pillow, snoring softly. Scott's eyes automatically scanned him for injury but could find nothing obvious.

As to how either of them had ended up here...something must have happened on the last mission, but he was having trouble recalling exactly what the last mission was.

Virgil snuffled in his sleep, a frown briefly creasing his brow before settling again. Scott's insides tensed. Sleep hadn't been Virgil's friend for some time. He silently wished for this moment to be quiet and undisturbed. It was relaxing to just share a room with the man.

He had missed Virgil. His youngest brothers were excellent rescue operatives and he loved them dearly, but Virgil...working with Virgil was seamless. They communicated without words, they knew each other so well, that they could anticipate exactly what was needed and when. And his quiet brother's silent support was all he needed to face anything.

It had been like losing a limb when Virgil was injured. And he had been hobbled ever since.

"He refused to leave you." John's quiet voice startled him. When he shifted on the bed looking for a hologram and found John solid beside him instead, he was surprised even more.

"Hey."

"Hey, yourself. How are you feeling?"

"Splitting headache."

"That's what you get when a building falls on you."

"What about Virgil?"

"He's fine. Just exhausted. He and Alan dug you out."

Something twinged in his gut. "How?"

"Pod and the exo-suit."

"He okay?"

John shrugged. "You needed him, he was there. I honestly don't think there was anything else in the equation." Green eyes shone at him. "You would have been proud."

Quietly. "Always have been." Of all of them. He looked back at his sleeping brother. "Thank you for taking him, John."

John smirked. "If Gordon finds out about the bathroom incident, you are going down, big brother."

A smile twisted Scott's lips. "I'll take it for the team."

-o-o-o-

To say things got easier from that point on would simplify it all too much, but they did. Virgil got his feet back on the ground.

After space floppy muscles were toned back up into their original condition, once he started eating the diet of an active man, his uniform tightened up, his strength returned, and with it his spirit.

He would never be the same Virgil again - too much, far too much, had happened to not leave scars. There were touchy subjects and the nightmares still made visits, but according to EOS he was now 'functionally operative'. And there was the occasional smile.

Scott healed quickly. He still claimed to remember pretty much nothing about the building collapse. Virgil had questioned him thoroughly on that on several occasions, but his story ran true. There was a building, possibly a child, then a complete blank until he woke up in the infirmary.

Having had a similar experience not so long ago, Virgil didn't hesitate to drag his brother to a specialist on the Australian mainland, just in case. But the answers were once again inconclusive. Scott may remember some of it, may never recall any of it.

Rescues dropped off in number. With two operatives down, they were limited in any case, and Virgil suspected John was intercepting and delegating at a higher rate.

Virgil knew he was going to have to step back up to the plate at some point. He couldn't hide much longer. And yes, 'hide' was the word he was using now. He was back in shape, he just needed to make that last step.

So, it was on a quiet afternoon while the comms room was empty that he approached his piano for the first time in months.

The stool had been lovingly cleaned and repaired. Apparently, Gordon had seen to that. Virgil ran his fingers across the soft material before sitting down. There wasn't a speck of dust on the instrument. Someone had kept it clean in his neglect.

Ivory beckoned, so he reached out and played a note, another, and then a spritely little tune that spoke mischief as if he was sneaking to play his piano against the rules.

Virgil smiled and let go.

-o-o-o-

Down by the pool Scott looked up as if he could see the music in the air. Gordon surfaced from the water and he caught his brother's eye grinning like a madman. Alan walked out of the kitchen, his neck straining to look above the balcony, so distracted he nearly joined Gordon in the pool.

Scott nudged a comm. "Hey, John, listen to this."

There was no answer at first, but then, "Oh, thank god."

Scott smiled.

-o-o-o-

FIN.


End file.
